Difference of Opinion
by Dr. Cat
Summary: Sometimes a highly advanced AI and a fun-loving lone crusader aren't on the same page and sometimes they are. Just a short moment between these two that came to mind.


Disclaimer: I don't own nor did I come up with Knight Rider or the characters mentioned in this story. They were created by Glen A. Larson and are copyrighted to NBC/Universal.

**Difference of Opinion **

"Yippee!"

Another loud shout from someone having a little too much fun and another reason I wish Michael would have chosen a nice drive by the coastline instead of a stop by the local bar for his entertainment needs tonight. However, he told me he wanted an 'exciting' evening, so here we are. For me, a performance by the symphony orchestra in town would have been interesting, but Michael said that would only be interesting if the string section was on fire and the conductor was being launched out of a cannon. Really Michael? I would think the man would rather have peace and quiet; Heaven knows we've had enough stimuli over the last five days.

Anyhow, this leaves me stuck in another parking lot for another few hours with another crossword puzzle when I'd really rather be home. It's not often I feel this way, but sometimes I just want the sanctity of my garage and the sound of familiar voices. Michael calls it homesickness and by its very definition I would have to agree with him. The trip through Mexico City had really done a number on my circuits and nothing would be better than Bonnie's attentions; nothing . . . Well, back to solving the 'brainteaser'. Mm, a five letter word meaning appalling in nature or unconventional; can't be awful or nasty and it can't be queer or droll either . . .

I hope Michael goes home after this. It really is getting late and we could both use the rest. He's been talking to that blonde lady for quite a while now though . . . Oh well, back to the crossword . . . What is this? I have access to every word known to the English language, not to mention four thousand other dialects, why can't I get three across?

What if he asks her to accompany him? He's been known to do that. We could be out here another five days; maybe even the weekend too! I don't think I'm going to make it. Please stop talking to her; please. Who cares if she's originally from Phoenix!? Alright, I shouldn't be prying, back to the puzzle. It's not gross or weird and it's not crazy or silly.

What if Michael wants to go back to that town like he said? Another week surrounded by nosy tourists, smelly dogs and choking dust. I can't take it?! Five letters; maybe it's wacky? No. Nutty? No. Flaky? No! Kooky? Uh, NO!

"Kitt?"

"What!? I'm not taking you to Acapulco again!" I shouted in response to the familiar voice of my partner. His confused face startled me. I can't believe I said that out loud. Did he hear me?

"Huh? Acapulco? What, you didn't like it there? I thought it was a lot of fun, minus the being on a case part," Michael said nonchalantly as he opened my door and sat in his seat. He did hear me, but he didn't sound upset by my outburst and that woman wasn't with him either. Good, because now I could inform him of why I wouldn't take him back.

"Didn't like it; that's an understatement Michael. You didn't have to wait out in the streets with all the traffic, animals and grime not to mention police officers trying to ticket you every ten minutes just because of the plates. Then there was the three thousand three hundred and twenty-two mile 'drive by the seat of your pants' trip there and back."

"Okay, okay, buddy. I'm sorry it was that bad for ya," Michael said, sounding genuinely apologetic. I didn't mean to come across as so irritated . . . well, maybe I did, but I didn't want it to cause Michael to feel guilty. It wasn't his fault we had to go to Acapulco. Maybe it was time to change the subject.

"Are we heading back to the Foundation?" I asked with what I hoped was a lighter tone. It must have been, because Michael smiled as he started my turbine engine.

"Yes we are," he said, waiting a beat before continuing, "Sounds like someone's feeling a little homesick."

I decided to remain quiet on that note as we pulled out onto the main road. It was strange how he seemed to be able to pick up on my non-existent 'feelings' all the time. I'll admit, I want to be home and that might be the definition of homesickness, but I was not 'feeling' homesick. I'm a computer after all . . .

"The answers 'whack' by the way," Michael said off-handily. It was my turn to be confused.

"What?"

"The crossword you've been working on. It's on the screen here; three across is w-h-a-c-k; whack," he said again. My crossword, right. How did he arrive at that answer?

"According to the dictionaries I have on file . . ."

"That's just it buddy. I don't think they used your run of the mill dictionary. It's slang."

"Slang? What kind of world are we living in when crosswords take their cues from colloquial speech?"

"Today's world I guess."

"Besides, wouldn't it be 'wack' without the h, considering slang's origins?"

I must have said that with a little too much sarcasm, because Michael responded defensively.

"You're just upset I got that when you've probably been working on it for hours."

True as that last part may be . . .

"Hardly. I'm not upset, just happy to say good bye to the Tiki lounge, that's all."

"Hey, that Tiki lounge just so happens to sell the best chili around," Michael defended, jabbing a thumb back at said location. I so had a comeback for that, but should I . . . its kind of uncouth . . . I can't resist the opening.

"Yes, I know. You ate enough of it to soon be talking out the other end."

"Where'd you pick up an expression like that," Michael said, sounding awfully surprised; as if he's never used such crudeness before.

"From those off color radio talk shows you enjoy so much," I said meaningfully. Maybe he would stop listening to them after this.

"Great, just don't talk like that around Bonnie. I think she sees me as a bad influence on you," he sighed. Newsflash: I know she sees you as a bad influence on me and she may be right, but it's worth the risk . . .

Mm, speaking of Bonnie, I wish we had gotten back to the Foundation a few hours ago. She's scheduled until six on 'normal' days, though she usually goes home around nine. She's one of the hardest working people I know, next to Devon and Michael of course . . .

It's already ten now and we're still another hour out. It's going to be another lonesome ten hours in the garage until she comes back at nine . . .

The other assistants will be there at seven, but they normally see to the facilities needs not mine, which is only right; someone has to look after those things . . .

I guess I'll just go into standby until morning. I'm sure Devon is turning in by now and Michael will definitely want to, well, hopefully he'll want to do the same. But perhaps . . .

I mean Bonnie's been known to burn the midnight oil, she may still be there and then . . .

"You've been quiet for a while," Michael said abruptly, interrupting my thoughts. He had his right hand on the steering yoke and supported his head with his left; elbow propped up on the armrest. He was getting tired, I could tell. His vitals showed a heart rate of sixty-five beats per minute, a body temperature of thirty-six point seven degrees Celsius and a breathing rate that was becoming regular and slow.

"I was just thinking I should take it from here. Allow me, Michael," I said. He gave a short nod and relinquished control as I switched to the auto cruise mode. He didn't lean his seat back as I had anticipated, but instead regarded my voice modulator with what could only be described as an idiosyncratic smile; it was uniquely Michael's.

"You know, you only became quiet when I mentioned Bonnie," he said with a yawn. What was that statement supposed to mean? But in reviewing our past conversation, I found he was right. I started thinking about Bonnie and her company and being home, but I also thought about Devon and the assistants; just not as much as . . .

"See, you did it again," Michael pointed out with that same smirk.

"I suggest you get a start on your rest. We still have another twenty minutes before we reach the mansion," I stated, hoping the change of subject would have him let go of whatever he was getting at. I can't explain why, which also troubles me, but the topic was sort of embarrassing.

"Okay buddy, I understand. Wake me before we get there, okay," he said, finally leaning the driver's seat back, "And Kitt?"

"Yes, Michael."

"I miss her too."


End file.
